Architect
by Hyoxjnn
Summary: One-Shot: Where was Nash before the events of 'Inception? And how did he learn about Dream-Sharing...? A short story on a possible scenario [Twelve Shots of Summer]


**Week 11 of the **_**Twelve Shots of Summer**_  
**Mission Mail: Compose a story on the theme of 'Maze Navigation', fail and face eternal entrapment within the labyrinth.**

* * *

**It's almost here... The big 'all-over'...**

**The Architect**

"When exactly do you think we started dreaming?" The older man adjusted his tie, and locked the only door out of the bunker's safe room.

"I... I don't..." The younger man shook in his chair.

"Of course you don't know..." He laughed, as a torrent of water cascaded into the room, "... And that's why you will die."

"Wha-...?"

"Goodbye, Mr. Nash... It's been... Interesting."

* * *

"'Dream... Space'...?" Nash shifted uncomfortably, "I was under the impression that, uh... I was applying for an architectural job-"

"Oh, you are, Mr. Nash, you are..." The man laughed, and adjusted his tie for the third time within the last five minutes, "... However, you will be constructing architecture for a..." He paused, choosing his next words, carefully, "... _Different_ purpose, than you originally thought."

"Is that right...?" Nash's eyes widened, his breathing quickened, slightly, and he began fidgeting around, "well, I- uh, I think I might decline, in that case, Mr. Pensar-"

"No, no, no...!" Pensar stood up at the same time as Nash, and gave a friendly, slightly forced smile, "_believe_ me, Mr. Nash," he pulled out a silver briefcase, and laid it on his desk.  
Nash grew even more restless; what was in it? Dirty money? A bomb? Another briefcase?  
All sorts of possibilities ran through his head, and then, he realised that Pensar was still talking, "you will _not_ want to turn this offer down."  
Dirty money. Definitely.  
Probably.

"... Wh-... What's in it?" Nash's eyes darted between Pensar's distinguished face and the briefcase.

"What '_is_' it." Pensar corrected him, "this, Mr. Nash, is a 'Portable Automated Somnacin IntraVenous Device'; 'PASIV Device', for short."

_Stop smiling like that._  
Nash ripped his eyes away from the man's eerily piercing expression, and cricked his neck, running out of random actions to fill the silence, "and... What would that be?"  
Another smile.

"Why don't you..." Pensar unlatched the PASIV Device, revealing an array of complex-looking machinery inside, "... See for yourself?"

* * *

"Incredible..." Nash gazed at the illusory city he had just entered, "this... This is all a dream?"

"_Your_ dream, Mr. Nash," Pensar's smile almost looked... Predatory, "as of this moment, you have _complete_ control of this world..." He pulled on his collar, and fixed his tie, "... I'd like to see your _abilities_, Mr. Nash... If you would." He enunciated the word, like a child asking for chocolate, or... Toys...

... Chocolate toys...

Within 10 minutes, Nash had proven himself to be a competent architect, recalling and constructing several building designs that he had been shown in the 'real world', from the inside, out.

"Ah... Marvellous... _Extraordinary_, Mr. Nash..." Nash could have sworn that he saw Pensar lick his lips... Hopefully, he imagined it, "incredible speed... And the _accuracy_... I may just take to calling you 'Nash the Stampede'..."  
Pensar greedily took in the sight of the constructs around him, "if you would kindly constuct one more... Design for me." He produced a 5-page blueprint of an underground bunker, and handed it to Nash.

"... Hmm..." He mumbled, and looked it over; it was a veritable _labyrinth_, from the entrance to the main safe room, it seemed that it would take anyone, even someone who knew the layout, at least 3 minutes to get to safety.  
Odd, especially for a bunker.

"Projections suggest a minimum of 30 minutes between the entrance and the safe room." "Pensar beamed, proud.  
Nash gave him a look of astonishment.

"Uh... Mr. Pensar, this... Wouldn't take _nearly_ as much time, I'm sorry."  
For the briefest of moments, Pensar dropped his pleasant smile, and gave a little choking noise.

"Well... Mr. Nash..." He recovered remarkably quickly, "... How long would it take... _You?_"

"Well, I..."  
_Three minutes... Ten times less._  
"... Using the 'walrider' trick, it would take a significantly shorter amount of time... Mr. Pensar."

"'Wall-Rider', Mr. Nash?"

"Oh, I..." He grimaced at his habit of naming things.  
_Even so... it's... Embarassing, that he wouldn't know this..._  
He turned to Pensar, and traced a path with his finger, "Mr. Pensar, if you place your hand on either the left or right wall of the maze, and proceed forward without letting go, you would eventually reach the safe room in no time flat."

"..."

"..."

"... _WHAT!?_" Pensar ripped a page from his hand, and stared at it furiously, "no, no... That's not..." After several, (successful,) attempts, he realised that Nash was right, "... Possible..."  
Nash looked around, uncomfortably, and coughed.

"Well... You've taken a step in the right direction, by making it multi-levelled..." He attempted to console the pathetic-looking man in front of him, "... But the entrance and exit are on the outer walls of the maze, that's what allows this trick to work."  
Pensar shot Nash a mixed look of hope and anger.

"So... You could design a better maze, correct?" He cleared his throat, and loosened his tie.

"I could." He gave a curt nod.

"... Well then congratulations, Mr. Nash... You've got the job."

* * *

One hour later, Nash and Pensar entered the bunker's safe room; Pensar locked the door, and at that moment...

"...!" Nash gasped, as a torrent of thoughts entered his head; he gritted his teeth, and suddenly slammed Pensar against the wall.

"Wh-...!?" Pensar's tie loosened considerably, and he coughed out, "what are you _doing?_"

"Don't screw with me...!" Nash growled, and pressed Pensar harder into the metal wall, "this... This has already happened...! You killed me!"  
Pensar's panicked breathing slowly drew to a stop, and an evil grin crept across his face.

"Oh...? You remembered. Good job." He chuckled, "unfortunately... You fail the test; you should've remembered before you even entered the bunker."

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?!"

"Well... I'll give you another chance..." He reached up, and smugly re-tightened his tie, "if you pass _this_ time, I'll let you out-"

"To hell with that, I'm letting _myself_ out!"  
Nash concentrated, but felt a creeping sense of uneasiness approach him as he found himself unable to dematerialize the wall, "ggh...!" Nash threw Pensar to the ground, and grabbed the handle of the heavy, metal door.

"That's pointless..." Pensar slowly got to his feet, "it can't be unlocked from the inside."

"No way...! But... You said I-"

"It's much easier to create something, rather than destroy," he gestured to the walls, "ever had a thought in your head, and been unable to get it out? This is exactly that..." He smirked, "... I'm afraid that the only way out, is through me."

"Rrgh..."

"You see, unlike you, I can leave at any time," he conjured a gun and held it to his head, "dying in a dream normally wakes you up, but... I'm sorry to say that that won't work for you."

"Why...?"

"We've injected you with a specialized compound; you've died twice, now. Further strain on your mind will result in a comatose state," he laughed one more time, "now... What will it be, Mr. Nash?"

"..."

"Will you pass the test...? Or will you fall into Limbo?"

_To Be Continued...?_

* * *

**Ahahah~**

**Bet you thought that it was one of those 'story is a flashback' stories**  
**WELL.**  
**I gaht you~**

**XD**

**This was late; apologies, but birthday's and getting shot by paintballs and such X3**

**The final week approaches... I won't be late this time.**  
**I promise.**

**Good luck, everyone...**  
_**-X**_


End file.
